


Betcha We Could Have Some Fun

by Fudgyokra



Series: Kinktober 2017 [5]
Category: Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 14:02:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12434367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fudgyokra/pseuds/Fudgyokra
Summary: He liked to joke that Bruce had a tub bigger than Clark’s entire house.





	Betcha We Could Have Some Fun

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober prompt fill number five!
> 
> Day 21: Double (Or more) Penetration | Impact Play | Shower/Bath*

He liked to joke that Bruce had a tub bigger than Clark’s entire fucking house. Obviously, this was an exaggeration, but it _was_ an awfully large bath with a showerhead the size of his skull and water pressure he was sure was incomparable to anywhere else in Gotham.

Despite the fact there was plenty of room for the two of them to shower comfortably without making accidental bodily contact, it still startled Clark when Bruce stepped in behind him and began rattling around bottles of fancy shampoo and whatever else he had stocked on the shelf.

“What are you doing?” Clark asked dumbly. His body was rigid, his eyes focused ahead at the pristine white tile. His hands stilled in his hair, where the last of the conditioner he’d used was sliding down his jaw and into the drain.

As expected, Bruce answered with the obvious: “Taking a shower.”

“Yeah, but, err…” He wasn’t sure how to argue the point, but that didn’t stop him from trying. “I’m in here.”

“I gathered,” Bruce said.

 _Prick,_ Clark thought. “What I mean is…why don’t you just wait until I’m finished?”

“That’s a waste of hot water.”

“You’re the richest man in Gotham, Bruce. You have an infinite supply of hot water.”

Unexpectedly this time, the other chuckled. Clark ignored his reservations and turned toward him, careful to look only at his face. The last thing he wanted was to see what he knew damn well was attractive territory—pale, certainly covered in scars, warm to the touch… He cringed at the thought and hoped, fruitlessly, that Bruce hadn’t noticed.

The latter lifted a sharp brow at him. “We use the communal showers at the tower all the time.” He was massaging shampoo into his scalp as he maintained eye contact, while Clark was trying to gauge how awkward it would be to simply hop out and sprint to safety.

“Yes, but I don’t look at you there,” Clark tried to explain, only to dig himself in deeper. “…Not that I’m looking now.” But then, because he’d said it, he _did_ look, and then immediately squeezed his eyes closed and assembled his mouth into a straight line.

His next thought was a self-admonishing _way to go,_ which happened alongside a subtler one that said _he’s exactly what I expected._

When he opened his eyes again, Bruce’s own were aimed at the wall to his right. He looked embarrassed, but Clark gave it the benefit of the doubt. “I’m sorry if I just made things weird.”

Bruce made a noncommittal sound that wasn’t really an answer, and, yeah, his eyes were furtive in their effort to look normal and so he _was_ embarrassed. Clark wasn’t sure why he couldn’t have the power of invisibility just then.

Still, he smiled easily; maybe if he acted like he wasn’t just staring at another man’s naked body, all of this would blow over. As with many things in his life, this did not work out for him.

“Is this going to be an issue?” Bruce asked. He was about to babble assuring negatives when the other continued with, “Because if it can be resolved now, that would be preferable to later.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Despite himself, Clark couldn’t contain his grin. “Woah, are you flirting with me?”

“I’m not—” Bruce started, then gave up and blew out of a huff of air. He put a hand on Clark’s chest and _god_ he wanted more of that, but Bruce was just moving him out of the way so he could rinse his hair. Somehow, he was so much prettier dripping wet that Clark wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t having some sort of weirdly pubescent wet dream. “I’m only saying,” the man said, interrupting his tangle of thoughts, “if you’re going to stare at me while we bathe, you might as well do something about it before we get to the tower.”

Clark’s mouth hadn’t gone dry so fast since he’d first met Lois. Nothing about the humidity of the bathroom helped that, either. “I might,” he began, choking on a nervous laugh, “I might take you up on that.”

“But you aren’t,” Bruce observed, as if the other man were some kind of calculation he was analyzing.

“I’m honestly not sure if you’re messing with me.”

This locked them in a stalemate for a moment, where they simply stared at each other past the crystal spray of water. A split second of reactionary decision-making had Clark backing him up against the shower wall, kissing him in what was an almost uncomfortably wet manner thanks to his prior position under the showerhead.

That hardly mattered when Bruce kissed him back, even lifted a hand to the back of his neck to pull him closer. If Clark had had a clue that this was a possibility, he would’ve bogarted Bruce’s shower years ago.

“I was under the impression that Diana was more your type,” Bruce admitted, breath cool between their mouths.

“She is very beautiful,” Clark admitted, “but she’s not you.”

Bruce frowned, unsure of what to do with this information. Clark had an idea, though, and when his hands contacted Bruce’s thighs, the other seemed to get that idea, too. “Here isn’t the best location for this.”

“It’s not like you can hurt me,” Clark replied easily, and Bruce surprised him by turning pink at the implication. “Oh,” he said, backtracking, “I mean, I figured since you would need—”

“Yeah, no, I got it,” Bruce interrupted. It was almost like they were clumsy, ashamed teenagers trying not to talk about what they both already knew they were doing.

“I’m willing to wait my turn,” Clark said, getting his hands around Bruce’s hips and pulling them flush. His smile was suggestive, but Bruce was much more concerned with the rivulets of water spilling down the other’s chest, and how his steamed-up bathroom wasn’t the first place he’d had in mind for this kind of occurrence, yet the heat was too inviting to consider leaving.

He lifted one of the other man’s legs to hook around his waist, and Clark floated the rest of the way up to help him. It wasn’t until he was halfway buried inside him that he realized just how useful those powers were in these circumstances, because the moment he’d earned a heated breath and the pressure of blunted nails in his shoulders, all he wanted to do was fuck him stupid for as long as Clark would let him. Usually he was patient enough for preparation, but Clark just opened around him so easily and he was flexing the muscles in his thighs against Bruce’s wet skin and—patience was for losers, anyway.

When Clark looked at him in a way that encouraged him to start moving, he didn’t ignore it. It was so strange to fit so perfectly, so easily. It wasn’t like it was with Talia or Selina, but definitely not like it was with any other men he’d been with, either.

He rested his forehead against Clark’s and drove into him until the other man was sliding up and down the tile wall with the movement, grunting incomprehensible things against Bruce’s neck while his nails dragged lines down his shoulder blades.

“You really don’t know,” Clark said in between panted breaths, “how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Bruce kissed him again and again until he could barely breathe and Clark was rutting up against him with his hand around his own cock, mumbling something about nothing. In an instant, he was going tight in all his muscles.

Bruce exhaled shakily at Clark’s face, so pretty and open, with his head back against the tile as he came. His hands gripped harder, dragging him down until the force of his own orgasm made him sink his teeth into Clark’s shoulder, earning an appreciative moan.

When he pulled out, Clark floated back to his feet. “You’re something else,” he said with earnestness, slicking his hand back over his hair. Bruce smiled at that, and he felt a welling feeling in his chest. “Was this…” he started, flushing when the other’s eyes became expectant and he was suddenly not even sure what he was asking. “I mean, are we…”

Bruce blinked, looked away, then back again. “We can definitely keep doing this, if that’s what you mean.”

Clark’s resulting laugh was breathy, composed halfway of surprise and halfway of relief at the answer. “I’d like that,” he replied at last.


End file.
